


The way he Sees the world

by Daughter_of_Scotland



Series: Steter Short Stories [6]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Gerard is a bastard, Minor Character Death, Spark Stiles, Steter Secret Santa 2016, Stiles is a kid, Violence, no romance but badass friendship, stiles has visions, threatening minors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/pseuds/Daughter_of_Scotland
Summary: The visions had always been a part of Stiles' life. The big ones are always important, and they end up saving more than one life when he Sees the big fire in the preserve.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ragga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragga/gifts).



> Steter Secret Santa!  
> I wrote something for the Teen Wolf fandom again, and I kinda like it :D
> 
> Kind of open ending, maybe the muse strikes again one day...

The first time Stiles  _ sees _ something, he's four years old and saves his father’s life. 

 

“Boom, Daddy,  _ boom!”  _ He wails as he clings to his father’s pants, keeping him from going to work with all the strength his pudgy arms and voice can muster. 

 

The bullet that would have pierced John’s brain went right over the head of the smaller Tara’s, who took the robbery job in his stead. 

 

It was also the day Claudia Stilinski told her husband about the supernatural and about the powers that lived in the family. It was a very long conversation. 

 

***

 

In the following years, Stiles had more visions. Some were small, a storm coming that would result in a blackout, surprise snow on Christmas. Others were bigger. Their old neighbor, Mr. Jenkins, dying of a heart attack. His mother going to the hospital and never coming back home.

 

That was a terrible day. Claudia raced to the doctor, but it was not something that could be treated, apparently. Thanks to Stiles’ prediction, they knew how long they had, and they did the best they could with the time left. But it still gutted Stiles and his father.

 

The visions stopped for a while after that. Or maybe Stiles was just too numb to let them reach him. He wished they would stop forever.

 

But then one night he woke up screaming again. His dad raced into the room, grabbed him, and pulled him close.

 

“Stiles,  _ Stiles _ ! Calm down. What did you see?”

 

“Fire,” Stiles gasped. “Dad - the big house. In the woods. It’s burning. They’re all burning!”

 

John’s insides chilled. “When?”

 

“Tonight,” Stiles said, staring at his father with wide eyes. “Dad. It’s happening tonight.”

 

John closed his eyes for a second, but then he slipped into his cop mode. “Alright. Stiles. I need you to dress. Quickly.”

 

“Yes, dad,” Stiles said, drying his eyes and watching John walk out, listening to him call the fire department while he got dressed.

 

It took less than ten minutes and they were on the road, on the way to the Hale House.

 

When they got there, the fire had just started, and the sirens were already close behind them.

 

“Why aren’t they coming out?” John asked, getting out of the car. “Where are they?”

  
“Can’t. Trapped.”

 

John turned back towards the car. Stile was sitting in the backseat, staring straight ahead, but his eyes clearly didn’t see the fire. “They’re… In the basement. But there’s something keeping them inside.”

 

John frowned as Stiles shook his head and got out of the car, too. “Do you know which way?”

 

The firetruck was just pulling up and Stiles nodded, pointing. John waved one of the firemen closer, explained the situation, and the three of them, armed with an ax, just in case they needed to break down any doors, moved towards the side of the house.

 

They found a window barred with bars, and hands reaching out in desperation. 

 

“Oh my god,” John breathed. “Stay here!” he told Stiles who, for once in his life, did as he was told. Then he ran to the window, the fireman already there.

 

“Is there a door close?” John asked, trying to speak over the crying children he heard inside. One of the hands pointed to the side and the fireman ran over, hitting the wooden door with his ax again and again, trying to break it down.

 

“Daddy!” 

 

John turned at Stiles’ cry and followed his son’s outstretched finger to the first floor. The fire was raging up there, but a shadow was at a window - 

 

The next moment, the window burst under the flames and a burning shape crashed to the ground. John cursed and he raced to the man - Peter Hale, barely recognizable -, rolling him around the ground. Suddenly a blanket was thrown over the man and John nodded at the second fireman who had come up and was now helping his colleague with the door.

 

“We’re through!” someone cried shortly after as paramedics came around the house, ready to start bringing people to the hospital.

 

John turned. One after the other the Hale Family staggered out of the house, supporting each other or being supported by helpers. He counted heads - from what he knew of the family, three were missing.

 

“Is anyone still in the house?” he asked loudly. 

 

“C - Cora,” Talia Hale answered, coughing heavily. “She - She was on the other side of the - the house. D - Derek and Laura aren’t h - here.”

 

John looked at the house in horror. If anyone was still in there -

 

“She’s out,” Stiles said, staring into nothing again. “She’s running.” He turned south. “That way.”

 

“Alright,” John said, breathing a bit easier. “Can you… Stiles, can you see where she is?”

 

Stiles frowned but closed his eyes. “I… I think she’ll be… She’ll be at the end of the preserve in a bit. At the… Close to the highway.”

 

“That’s great, kiddo,” John said, feeling proud. Stiles had never used his powers in this way, basically directing them. This was huge, and he needed to think about that more. Later.

 

“Tara, can you hear me?” he spoke into his walkie and waited for her to answer. “Tara, I need you to drive south, to the end of the preserve, where it comes to the highway. You’ll find one of the Hale children there. Tell her everyone is alive and bring her to the hospital.”

 

He turned back to Talia. “We’ll find her,” he promised her. 

 

Talia nodded, her eyes wide and set on Stiles. “I… Thank you. When… When we’re all okay. Please come to me.”

 

She looked at John. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

 

For a moment her eyes shone red. And if Claudia hadn’t told him about werewolves and her suspicions about the Hales, John might have been shocked. But as it was, he just nodded and let her go with the paramedics.

 

“Wait,” he said and ran after her, remembering something. “Where are your other kids? I’ll pick them up and bring them to the hospital.”

 

Talia told him and thanked him with a tight smile.

 

John found Stiles already in the car and drove to the house he would find Laura in, first. As the older sister, it would probably be best to have her there when he told her brother about the fire.

 

“Daddy, I’m sleepy,” Stiles said, slurring his words a bit. 

 

John looked at him through the mirror. “It’s okay, kiddo. You can sleep. We’re going to pick up two kids and I’ll bring them to the hospital. Then I’ll drop you off with Jessica, okay?” 

 

Jessica Jones was their next door neighbor, and Stiles’ emergency babysitter. 

 

“Okay,” Stiles mumbled, already half asleep. “Daddy? My head hurts.”

 

John swallowed.  _ It’s nothing _ , he told himself.  _ Just the smoke.  _ “Sleep, Stiles,” he said aloud. “It will be better when you wake up.”

 

He really hoped so.

 

***

 

It took a few days, but eventually, Talia Hale called.

 

John was at home and told her she could come over whenever she had the time - between walking through the burned husk of her home, looking for anything that might be salvageable and taking care of her brother, who was hurt worse than anyone else she was pretty busy - he was working from home at the moment.

 

Because while Stiles’ powers had clearly saved a lot of lives, they had also hurt him. He was having constant headaches and daily nosebleeds. He barely slept and when he did, it was fitful.

John still wanted to help with the investigation - luckily, Derek was able to give a very good description of the woman who had seduced him and made him tell her everything about the house - but he did so from home.

 

She arrived barely an hour later, together with her oldest daughter, Laura.

 

John let them in and they all sat down in the kitchen with mugs of coffee and cocoa for Stiles.

 

Talia smiled at them. “First, please let me thank you for all your help,” she said sincerely. “I know you saved all our lives.”

 

Laura clenched her fists for a second, her eyes burning amber, but then she caught herself and relaxed. 

 

Stiles stared at her, his mouth open. “How did you make your eyes shine?” he asked.

 

Laura smirked and did it again, slower and clearly deliberate. “I’m a werewolf. I can do even cooler things.”

 

Stiles’ eyes went round. “Dad! Werewolves are real!”

 

“They sure are, kiddo,” John said, sharing an exasperated look with Talia.

 

“Stiles,” Talia said, getting his attention. “How did you know where Cora was?”

 

He blinked. “I… I’m not supposed to say,” he hedged.

 

John rubbed his back. “It’s okay, Stiles. You’re allowed to tell the Hales everything about your superpowers.”

 

He lit up instantly. Not being allowed to tell anyone - not even  _ Scott _ ! - was the hardest part about his powers, in his mind.

 

“I see things sometimes,” he answered eagerly. “I dreamed about the fire. And then we went there and I saw the basement, and Cora! And I told my dad.”

 

“You did great, telling him,” Talia assured him, wonder in her eyes. “John, I haven’t met a seer before, but your son seems very strong to me.”

 

“It was the first time he deliberately looked for something,” John explained, his hand still on Stiles’ back. “He… He’s not doing well right now.”

 

“I’ve got headaches and my nose’s bleeding all the time,” Stiles added. 

 

Laura frowned and reached out, touching his hand. Almost immediately, her veins started to run black.

 

“Woah,” Stiles exclaimed. “What’s that?”

 

“She’s taking your pain,” Talia answered, watching her daughter carefully. “There seems to be a lot.”

 

She looked at John again. “I’ll call Alan - Deaton, the vet. He might be able to help. He’s our emissary. A magic user,” she added at John’s lost look. 

 

He nodded, feeling relief flooding his body. “That would be great. Claudia - my wife - she knew a bit but not enough… And well… Stiles never got like this when she was alive.”

 

Talia nodded in understanding and excused herself to make the call.

 

Laura stopped taking Stiles’ pain, but he was clearly feeling better, and John decided it was a good time to get him to eat more than he had since the fire. 

That’s how he ended up making pancakes at three in the afternoon, feeding not only his son but also an 18-year old werewolf, waiting for the local vet to show up and help him with his son’s visions.

 

His life, honestly.

 

***

 

Their life settled into a new routine. 

 

Stiles went to school and got picked up by one of the Hales after. They brought him to Deaton, who, with the help of his sister, taught him not only about his visions, but also about something called a  _ spark  _ he was supposed to have inside of him. Neither Stiles nor John truly understood it, but Alan said that was okay - it would come later.

 

Either way, John suddenly had a lot more people helping him with getting his life back on track.

Talia and her husband, Jason, gave him a stern lecture about his drinking and eating habits and made him realize that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to his son. He vowed to rectify that and slowly, but surely, he and Stiles talked about it all.

 

So, their lives changed, thanks to the Hales. It got better. Not perfect, how could it ever, without Claudia? But it got better.

 

By now Stiles had managed to separate his visions into categories. The small ones, he could actually suppress. Most of them he could now pinpoint more clearly, telling when they’d happen. During his first year of training with Deaton, he managed to save three people in a huge car crash and prevented seven others from getting into a house that was later destroyed by an earthquake. John was so proud of him, he didn’t even have the words to say it.

 

Next to Alan, the person Stiles spent the most time with, was Peter Hale. 

 

Peter had been in the hospital for just a short time, Talia quickly ensuing that he went into her own care - as soon as the Hales had bought a new home. He was in a coma while his injuries from the fire were healing, but woke up very soon. Having his pack around him, Talia explained, helped him considerably.

 

As soon as Stiles heard this, he’d decided he’d help out, too. So he spent at least an hour every day with Peter, reading to him, telling him about his day. John asked Talia if it was really okay, but she just smiled and nodded.

 

“He’s helping Peter,” she assured John. “I can feel it. When Stiles is there, Peter’s heartbeat goes up, his wounds heal faster… Stiles is helping.”

 

John let out a relieved sigh. “I’m… Really glad to hear that,” he told her. “You… All of you are helping him, too.”

 

And so it went. When Peter woke up a few months after the fire, completely healed, Stiles stopped going for a while, suddenly shy. But Peter wouldn’t accept that and turned up at the Stilinski house himself, asking Stiles to continue reading to him. He’d gotten weirdly invested in Peter Pan and it was all Stiles’ fault after all.

 

A year passed. Stiles celebrated his 12th birthday surrounded by more people than at all his other birthday’s combined. Scott, his best friend, and his mother were slowly integrated into the pack and getting used to the idea that lycanthropy might cure Scott’s asthma. Stiles learned how to make pencils float, which was just  _ awesome. _ Peter gave him new books to read, books he shouldn’t tell his dad about, because they definitely weren’t made for his age. 

 

And then the next big vision hit.

 

They were having a picnic in the preserve, Peter, Laura, Derek, Stiles and Scott. They were sitting close to the pond that was best for swimming in, the sun was shining, the food was delicious - 

 

Stiles was screaming. He was engulfed by such a bout of terror, his muscles seized up and he went cold all over. All he could see was the face of an old man, white hair, features full of hatred. And he saw the gun, pointed at Peter’s head. 

 

When he came out of it, he was lying flat on his back, his head in Peter’s lap. Laura and Peter were both drawing his pain, making him woozy, while Derek and Scott were hovering anxiously.

 

“Wh’ happen’?” he slurred. 

 

Peter stopped drawing his pain and motioned for Laura to do the same.

 

“You had a vision,” Peter explained in a low voice. “Must have been a big one.”

 

Stiles blinked and saw the gun again. His face scrunched up. “You’re going to die,” he wailed. “Peter… He’s going to kill you!”

 

***

 

It didn’t take very long for Talia to work out that the man Stiles had seen in his vision was Gerard Argent, Kate Argent’s father. 

While Kate and her helpers had been arrested, the trial was still ongoing, with Derek as a key witness. Kate’s brother, Chris, had renounced his family and moved to Beacon Hills - both to make amends and also to make sure his little daughter grew up with a healthy view on werewolves. His wife had divorced him for it, but he wouldn’t go back on his decision.

 

Gerard had a reward on his head but so far had escaped justice, even with Chris helping the FBI in searching for him.

 

“He will come here,” Talia said darkly. “He’ll want to make sure Derek doesn’t testify.”

She held her son close, but kept a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

 

“He might want to use me as a bargaining chip,” Peter agreed. “Maybe that’s what Stiles saw.”

 

Said Stiles had fallen asleep by then, clutching his pillow tightly, with his head on Peter’s lap. Peter was stroking his head idly.

 

“It won’t come to that,” John promised. “I’ll put a protection detail on the house, the school…”

 

Jason shook his head. “That is just a temporary fix, and he’ll get around that,” he protested. “He’s used to walking the police in circles. No offense.”

 

“None taken,” John said dryly. “Any better ideas?”

 

“How about we tell Chris first?” Talia suggested. “If Gerard comes here, maybe he can help us.”

 

“His father won’t go to Chris, not after the open statement Chris gave on TV,” Peter frowned. “But he should know anyway.”

 

“Maybe Deaton can work up some protective magic,” Laura suggested, hugging Derek close. The boy had been quiet and pale since Stiles’ vision. “For all of us, but especially Peter and Der.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” Jason said and got out his phone. “I’ll ask him.”

 

“We are forewarned,” John said, clasping Talia’s shoulder. “Thanks to Stiles’ vision, we won’t be surprised when he turns up.”

 

“But we don’t know when exactly it will happen,” she argued. “He didn’t say anything about the time.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he was too freaked out to notice,” Peter said dryly. “It seemed pretty terrifying. Which I can understand, I’m sure having a gun to my head will be scary.” His hand stilled on Stiles’ head and his gaze turned steely. “But I won’t let him shoot me. I won’t let Stiles’ vision come true. He would be too afraid to ever use his gift again.”

 

“Not to mention that he’d miss you very much,” John said, grinning a bit. “You have a loyal admirer in him after all.”

 

Peter smiled down at the boy in his lap. “Yes. That, too.”

 

For some reason that was enough to break the tension in the room and they all decided to wait until they heard from Deaton and talked to Chris before they made more plans.

 

***

 

A few days went by. Stiles was jittery and didn’t want to leave Peter’s side, so he and John moved into the guestroom at the new Hale house for the time being and Stiles was brought to school and picked up by Peter, who in turn was always followed by a police car. 

 

Stiles tried to get the feeling of the vision back, to see if he could find out when it would happen, but failed. He let out his frustrations about that by gluing himself to Peter’s side even more.

 

Peter… Well. Peter was kind of chafing under all the surveillance. He was used to having a lot more time to himself, but right now he got… Zero. 

 

So, in hindsight, no one should have been surprised when he snuck away a week after the vision hit.

  
  


Stiles was the first to notice, when Peter didn’t pick him up from school. He immediately freaked out and called his dad who told him to stay put, John would start looking for Peter and send someone else to pick up Stiles.

 

So Stiles waited and when Chris Argent pulled up to the school and told him John had sent him, Stiles didn’t suspect anything. He figured the Hales were all busy looking for Peter.

 

“I’ll take you to my house, you can do your homework and study with Ally until your dad picks you up,” Chris said, keeping his eyes on the road.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles muttered, looking out the window. “Are you going to look for Peter, too?”

 

“No,” Chris said, his fingers clenching on the wheel. “I’ll stay at home with you.”

 

He helped Stiles out of the car at his house and carried his backpack for him. As he opened the door to the house, he took a deep breath. 

 

“I’m really sorry about this, Stiles,” he said earnestly and pushed Stiles inside.

 

Stiles stumbled and almost fell to the floor, his gut clenching. “Sorry about what?” he asked and looked up - right into Gerard Argent’s face.

 

Something hit Stiles on the back of his head and he went down to the floor for real, blacking out.

 

***

 

When Stiles came to again, he was tied to a chair in a basement and Gerard Argent was standing in front of him, while Chris Argent was bound and gagged at his feet.

 

Stiles stared at Chris before he looked up and found Gerard smiling down at him.

 

“What…?” Stiles asked but couldn’t continue.

 

“Oh, my son didn’t lure you here out of maliciousness,” Gerard explained, fiddling with the gun in his hand. Stiles recognized that gun.

 

“I have his daughter, you see? Pretty little Allison… So he agreed to bring you here.”

 

Stiles looked at Chris again who stared back with wide eyes. Stiles swallowed and gave him a shaky nod and smile. He didn’t blame the man - his father would have done the same if Stiles had been threatened.

 

“What do you want with me?” Stiles asked Gerard, licking his lips. “I wasn’t the one who arrested Kate.”

 

“Oh, no, but your father was,” the old man answered. 

 

Stiles went cold. If he had been kidnapped just to threaten his father… Maybe Gerard would kill him and let his dad find his body… Oh god.

 

Stiles started screaming for help as loud as he could, yelling for someone, anyone, to find him. He also started crying and was pretty sure his bladder would give out soon - He was terrified.

 

Gerard gave him a few minutes, before he walked over and slapped him across the face. Hard.

 

“No one’s going to hear you,” he told Stiles, still holding the gun in one hand. “Your father, your friends, the dogs… They are all looking for the dog that ran away.”

 

Stiles sobbed but had stopped screaming. “They’re no- not dogs,” he hiccuped. “They’re better people than you and and your bitch daughter will ever be.”

 

Gerard hit him again and Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. Disgusted, he spat out a glob of blood.

 

“A young man like you should watch his language,” Gerard told him mildly. “And of course they are dogs. But I see they’ve corrupted you. Just like they corrupted my son.”

 

He threw a dirty look to Chris who was still lying on the floor. Then his face brightened.

 

“Maybe I should just take you with me,” he muttered, making Stiles jump. “I could teach you the business… I’m sure after a few years you’ll be a great hunter. And with Katie in jail and Chris gone, I really need a successor.”

 

“Gone?” Stiles whispered. “But… He’s right here.”

 

“Oh, well, I don’t have any use for him now, do I?” Gerard asked and casually pulled the trigger, shooting his son in the stomach.

 

Stiles yelled and fought against his bonds, as he watched Chris’ eyes widen in shock and then screw shut in pain, as blood grew larger and larger on his shirt, pooling around his body.

 

“Oh my god, oh my  _ god _ , you shot him, you monster, he’s your  _ son _ , how could you do that, oh my god, he’s going to  _ die _ !”

 

Gerard looked between them and shrugged. “I suppose he is,” he nodded. “Pity. But see, this is actually good. I have Allison, too. You two could marry one day and carry the legacy on this way.”

 

Stiles stared at him. “You’re insane,” he whispered. “Actually insane. As if I’d ever learn from you.”

 

“Well. That’s a pity then,” Gerard said with another shrug and pointed the gun at Stiles.

 

The next part happened very fast. The basement window broke in a shower of glass behind Gerard, who wheeled around and pointed his gun at it. But the man coming through it was faster and he dropped low to the ground, rushing Gerard, making him drop to the ground.

 

There was a short scuffle which Stiles couldn’t really follow, but in what seemed only second it was over. The man was standing in front of Stiles now, and it took him a moment to recognize Peter, wholly wolfed out.

 

“No,” Stiles whispered as he saw the gun Gerard was still holding pointed at Peter’s head. This was his vision, this was what they’d tried so desperately to prevent. “No, Peter.”

 

Gerard was bleeding from a bite wound on his shoulder, but his hand holding the gun was steady.

 

“Damn dog,” he growled. “How did you find us?”

 

“Not too hard,” Peter sneered. “You stink up the whole town.” He turned his head slightly to look at Stiles, assessing him, his eyes narrowing as he took in the bruises on the kid’s face.

 

Then he looked at Chris. “You really have no scruples, do you?” he asked Gerard. “Killing your own son? That’s sick.”

 

Gerard let out a sharp laugh. “He consorted with dogs. He has no right to call himself my son anymore.”

 

“Peter,” Stiles whispered. “Peter, please, get out. This is it, this is what I saw, I -”

 

“Shhh,” Peter answered, not looking away from Gerard. “It’s okay, Stiles. It will all be fine.”

 

“You little shit -” Gerard started to scream as there was another shot, this one coming from outside.

 

Gerard stopped and looked down, staring blankly at the spreading red right above his heart. “What…” he mumbled before he crumbled to the ground.

 

Peter immediately turned around and moved to work on Stiles’ bindings.

 

“Talia, get in here, Chris is dying!” he snapped out, just as he ripped the handcuffs holding Stiles apart.

 

There was a flurry of movement from upstairs, shouts and running feet, but Stiles ignored it all, he just flung his arms around Peter’s neck and held on for dear life. Peter held him close as all the adrenaline and stress left Stiles and made him break out in huge sobs and hysterical tears.

 

Peter got up, holding the boy in his arms, arms and legs wrapped around him, and moved to the stairs, letting Talia through before moving upstairs where John waited for them, hugging them both as soon as they were away from the stairs.

 

Stiles just held on and cried.

 

***

 

Five days later, the full moon was over and Chris Argent was allowed out of the Hale house for the first time since Gerard’s death. Just in time for the funeral, really, but as he had decided, his father had been cremated and the urn would be buried in a small grave with no one in attendance but the priest and the cemetery workers.

 

Chris had healed completely and, not to anyone’s surprise, took to being a werewolf pretty easily. His usual control helped him with adjusting, and Talia was a good alpha, making sure he found his anchor early on. He and Allison both moved into the Hale house, while they looked for a new place - neither of them wanted to stay at the house where Gerard had died.

 

Allison was unharmed and found drugged in her bedroom, the doctor’s didn’t think there would be any lasting damages.

 

Stiles clung to his dad and Peter for over 24 hours after being seen to by a doctor, too. He had a mild fracture on his jawbone from Gerard hitting him, but that would heal with time and rest, which everyone was glad to provide for him. 

The nightmares, however, no one could prevent. But Peter and John were both always ready to soothe him back to sleep - especially now that it had been decided that the Stilinskis would move in with the Hales for a while longer.

 

Life moved on, and slowly, Stiles learned to believe what everyone was telling him: Gerard was gone. Kate would go to prison. They were safe. And he started to sleep through the night again.

  
  
  


**Epilogue - 6 years later**

 

“Stiles, come on, we need to go!”

 

Stiles grabbed his backpack and gave the room a last cursory look. Satisfied that he hadn’t forgotten anything, he left it and the house, moving outside where Peter leaned against his car, smirking at him.

 

“Saying goodbye?” he asked. 

 

“Just for a little while,” Stiles nodded and put his backpack into the backseat. “You still sure you want to come with me?”

 

Peter stepped up behind him and ruffled his hair. “Help you track down a lost little werewolf and a spark who, as you said, might actually save our lives in five years? Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll come with you.”

 

Stiles grinned and got into the passenger seat with Peter sliding behind the wheel. 

 

This was going to be the best roadtrip ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love <3


End file.
